Scars
by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: Death is one of the only things that is definite, but before that, there is always life. Series of four-point view's into Snape's life.
1. In Acceptance, there is Change

_You are Cordially Invited_

_To the Joining of Souls of_

_Lily Marie Evans and James Frederick Potter_

_On this 30 day of June_

_2:00 P.M_

_R.S.V.P by Owl Post_

The glittery gold writing stared up at him for all of a minute before it was cast into the fire, twisting and curling black as it burned.

* * *

><p>Pulling his suit collar tight around his neck, a dark-haired man slid into the procession as the vows were being said. One side, obviously full of wizards, seeing their attire, the other full of muggles, dressed in their best suits like the wedding party at the front of the room. He slid into a seat on the side of muggles, the bride's side, and watched as the muggle preacher told them to repeat their vows, and a small wizard preacher hovered unseen behind him, casting a small spark with each vow they made, slowly creating a golden archway around the two of them.<p>

There was Lily, beautiful, even more perfect than usual in her dress, with her hair laying perfectly down her back and pulled gracefully to one side; her face shone form all the way at the back of the church. He couldn't see her eyes, but he knew they were full of love, love for Potter, love that could have-should have been for him. Anger boiled inside of him, but he sat still through the procession, through the kiss, and even there walk down the aisle. He sat still watching them, the others all standing and clapping around him as he sat still. Her eyes flickered to him, widening in disbelief before Potter led her out the door.

By the time she came to look for him, he was miles away, brushing his fingers against the mark burned into his skin.

* * *

><p>November was cold, the first days already hinting at the horrible winter to come, but he ignored this. He could see the strings of leftover Halloween decorations littering the streets of Godric's Hollow, the pumpkin's smiles sinking as the flesh supporting them caved in on itself, not to be cleared away for days when the inhabitants of the neighborhood finally thought it was safe to return. One house, that he know paused in front of, was missing a side, the roof blown out in an explosion form only a week ago. But he had been there; he had no desire to see it again.<p>

He stepped through the gate guarding the small cemetery holding long forgotten people in a varying collection, but he passed most of them without a second thought. He had no interest in ancient history, only the most recent tombstones bothered him. He saw them. Two mounds of fresh dirt, two stones that still shone with the magical coating they had been given.

He sank to his knees unable to take his eyes off the writing on the stone, feeling the tears that would not come burn behind his eyes. He pulled out his wand, seeing a flash of his horrible tattoo underneath his cloak, and pointed it to the stone. A small flower appeared, a perfect white lily on leaning up under where her name was carved into the stone. He waited, sitting alone with his own thoughts pressing against his mind. He couldn't sit here any longer; he had to see the boy.

He rose to his feet, turning to leave the graveyard and taking all of two steps before he turned around. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, one of the last things she had ever written to him, and laid it underneath his flower. He knew it would not last, but that didn't matter, it belonged here far more than it belonged with him. He drew in a breath, the dying scent of autumn twilight being pulled into his lungs, and as a quick afterthought, he added another lily to the gravestone, this one underneath the man's name, to whom she had actually belonged.

He pulled the cloak around his shoulders, disapperating out of the graveyard because he knew he could not bear to walk away.

* * *

><p>Teaching first years was easy, they were ready to learn, willing to listen to instructions, and tended not to argue, but now they carried a new feeling with them as they filed in. Malfoy first, followed by the Slytherins that he had to take care of for the rest of their stay here. But behind them came the Gryffindor's, headed by none other than the Potter boy and his friend, Weasley.<p>

The years had given him the skill to hide his own emotions, but he still found it hard to look at the boy, James Potter in miniature but the eyes staring back at him were Lily's. Brilliant green, like the leaves of the tree where he had first seen her, but they didn't belong on the boy's face, he would never be able to look at him directly. The boy glared up at him, his eyes distorted with frustration, an expression that didn't belong in those eyes.

Minutes later he gave them a potion to begin work on, if only so Harry would look at something other than him.

* * *

><p>(AN) So yeah, poor Snape. His life was an experiment in tragedy to be honest, so I felt like writing this. Please read and review, I want constructive criticism, but please don't be rude. Thanks.


	2. Rivalry is Always a Factor

"Gryffindor!" She slid off the stool carefully as he watched her, joining the other boy who had made that house earlier in the Sorting. His stomach dropped, his only friend was in a different house. He dreaded those minutes leading up to his name, he couldn't help it. He knew he wouldn't be in Gryffindor, he knew it.

The severe witch set the sorting hat on his head, not really glancing at him, but just waiting on an answer. He waited, knowing what he would hear. But it didn't come; instead a low murmur came from the hat. _"Bravery, I see. But talent, dark talent too. Two houses, but which one to pick."_

Under the circumstances, he might have been embarrassed, but his heart soared. Bravery was the mark of Gryffindor! He had a chance. "_Courage, but it's unused, untapped, I'm afraid. _SLYTHNERIN!"

His spirit dropped, he glanced at her one last time before walking over to the far table, sitting down next to a tall blonde boy who smiled coldly down at him, patting him on the shoulder.

His only friend was gone.

* * *

><p>He came out onto the field, displaying his green Quidditch robes proudly, a secondhand Cleansweep in his hand, and a brilliant smile on his face. Lucius Malfoy, the team keeper and captain, comes out and puts a hand on his shoulder. It's his first game ever, the new team seeker, playing against James Potter, the new Gryffindor Seeker, making them perfectly matched.<p>

When the referee tells them to fly up on their brooms and shake hands, Severus doesn't watch the other team; he surveyed the stands, looking for Lily so that she could see him in his newfound glory. He saw her, a red and gold Gryffindor scarf hanging form her neck, leaving a dropping pit in the middle of his stomach, and to make it worse, she's rolling her eyes.

His face clenches in hurt, how could she do that to him? It takes him another minute to realize she's not looking at him. Her stare is fixed on James Potter, the Gryffindor Seeker, who is grinning at her from his shiny new Nimbus brand broom, running a gloved hand threw his hair in an attempt to impress her. He couldn't help himself, he snorted at Potter's idiotic behavior. Lily Evans didn't care about looks, but brains, personality and talent, all of which he had while Potter maybe had the last two. Maybe.

A whistle blasted the next thought out of him, and he watched for a snitch, a tiny flash of gold, but saw nothing. In desperation he soared around the pitch, dodging a bludger that crashed into the bottom of the stands instead, but no gold crossed his path. He watched Potter, gliding non-purposefully along the ground, idling in his hunt for the snitch.

Slytherin pulled ahead by forty, all he had to do was his job and he would win. He soared low, making a half-minute sweep around the edge before he finally saw it. A tiny sparkle in the Saturday sun. Grinning to himself, he pushed forward as fast as he could go, getting closer and closer. The tiny ball was inches from his fingertips when it was suddenly obscured by something dark closing over the wings.

He landed on the ground, watching James Potter hoist the snitch high above his head, flying right in front of Lily as the rest of Gryffindor cheered.

His heart clenched. She was looking at Potter, clearly impressed.

* * *

><p>He watched Lupin drop a Doxy egg into the potion they were making, turning it the desired shade of blue. He rolled his eyes at Lupin's obvious excitement at getting it right, even though they had strayed from the directions under his order, getting a correct Antidote to Uncommon Poisons rather than the sludge that seemed to bubbling in every other cauldron in the room, bar one.<p>

Lily stood over that cauldron, her partner, Sirius Black, staring at it suspiciously like he thought it might suck him into it. She stirred it once, and from across the room, he could tell her potion was perfect, like his and Lupin's, because of the blue curls of smoke rising from it. Their professor came by and examined their work, giving both him and his partner wide smiles and marks of approval before doing the same at Lily and Black's. She smiled over at him, and flashed a thumbs-up before turning to gather her books, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Lupin, Sirius, or James who was partnered with Avery at the back of the room.

The professor dismissed them after clearing off the last vat of sludge and bottling up the correct antidotes in little vials at the front of the room. Potter came over to him at once. "So, Snivellus, got a thing for Evan's do you?"

He didn't say anything, just continued stuffing books in his bag. "Well, don't get any ideas, I think her type includes people who can do more than play with pots." This earned a laugh from Sirius and Peter Pettigrew, who had just come over, but Lupin looked a little uneasy.

He still said nothing, throwing his satchel around his shoulder and pushing his way through them to the door. "James, let it go." He heard Lupin's voice behind him, but chose to open the door rather than turn around. A bad mistake.

"Diffindo!" Before he could counter it, his bad split down the bottom, a fact that would make him late for his next class, but as he bent to pick them up, another curse came towards him. "Flipendo!"

"Protego!" James Potter shattered an entire shelf of vials on the shelf by the Professor's office. A thick cloud of multicolored smoke grew around him, and though the boy knew how to make it stop, he levitated his things, sealed his bag and headed to charms, leaving all of them behind him.

* * *

><p>He ran as though his life depended on it. That's how it felt; his mind was on fire, feeding the fuel that kept him running towards the castle. For all he knew, he was already too late, but he had to try. Dumbledore was the only one who could help her now that he decided it was her son.<p>

He had told his master the prophecy, not remembering her pregnancy. Or maybe he had. His heart curled at the thought that he didn't want the boy to live. Potter's son. But Lily's son, too.

He pushed through the doors of the castle, ignoring the blatant look of shock and horror on the caretakers face, the same one who had been there when he had been a student almost a decade ago. He ran through the ever changing stairways, every step a memory, every breath a flashback. He would give anything to be back, to have her safe here, far away from the threat of the Dark Lord. He reached the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's, realizing he didn't know the password. He leaned onto the wall, thinking of Lily, or her son, of her husband, all of them marked for death.

By the time the statue spun to reveal the headmaster, his sleeve was already soaked with horrible, burning tears.

(A/N) Hoped you liked it, yeah it was sad, and yeah James Potter was an ass in the third one, and yeah I made Snape play Quidditch. But before you say anything, does it ever say he doesn't? If it does, someone PM me so I don't feel like an idiot, but I didn't read anything about it, so I thought why not? I mean, Snape's not a big dude, he could pass for a Seeker. Read and Review as always


	3. In Realtions to a New Master

He walked through the dark streets of what used to be a town. Buildings were ruptured, thrown into a horrible mosaic, dark silhouettes against an already darkening sky. He pushed past them, making himself not think of all the people who used to live here, many he had known form his days at Hogwarts, the same ones he now knew to be dead. Only one house remained in perfect condition at the end of the street, a floating green face permanently etched in the sky above.

He heard nothing as he approached the building, he saw no light coming from the windows, but he knew it was not vacant. There was no possibility of the house being empty, its importance to the Dark Lord was more than worth a few Death Eaters to guard it each evening, but the fact that unseen guards were present made him uneasy, all the way to the point that he drew his wand, concealing it in his sleeve.

At last reaching the door, he glanced behind him before knocking quietly on the ancient wooden door. A large man, his black hair stringy and clinging to his face, appeared in the doorway, his lips curled into a tight smile.

"Hello, Severus." The man glanced nervously down at the speakers arm, seeing his wand there, and the top of what looked like a drawing barely showing under his sleeve. "The dark lord is waiting."

The man stepped into the house, the building not offering him any more comfort than that of the cold street outside. No signs of life were present, no food, light or heat, only a strange hissing noise coming from the hallway he was being led down.

"Bring him in Rookwood; I have things to do this evening." A voice came from the last room, thin like a whisper. "Welcome to our ranks, Severus."

The man stepped into the room, swallowing his fear, and turning his back on his conscience. As his new lord burned his mark into his skin, he felt the urge to run, to get out before he was finished, if only because she wouldn't approve. He pushed it away, like everything else.

She didn't matter now, this was his new life. His new master. His new family. She was irrelevant.

As good as dead to him now.

* * *

><p>He was marked now, he could feel it. But he had expected it, ever since Karkaroff had confided in him all those weeks ago. The Dark Lord was not happy with him, for his apparent loyalty to Dumbledore and his supposed protection of Potter over the last four years. He had to tread lightly now, to stay in the grace of the Dark Lord, that is if he had the chance to explain anything. He knew for a fact that the other Death Eaters had been whispering about him, every one of them suspicious of him ever since his assistance to Dumbledore that kept Voldemort from achieving the Sorcerer's Stone in Potter's first year. Another difficult fact to explain.<p>

But he held his resolve. His mind was layered with protection so that it was impenetrable. Not even Dumbledore, the greatest wizard ever to have lived, could carve his way into it. He was safe inside his mind, inside his own thoughts and emotions, Voldemort would not be able to penetrate it. His only comfort at this point.

His meeting with the Dark Lord was approaching, as soon as Voldemort decided to call him. He thought of Dumbledore and knew that he was expecting him to return form this visit for the next term. He thought of Potter, who he knew would prefer he never returned. He thought of the other teachers, none of which he thought would really miss him. He wasn't one for friends. He pulled his robe over his shoulders and grabbed his trunk, disapperating into his home for the summer.

The mark twisted on his arm, telling him it was the time to face fate. He dropped the trunk on his bed and stopped to look at himself in the mirror.

Was his loyalty to Dumbledore worth all of this? No, he decided, it wasn't.

But his loyalty to her was. That thought sustained him as once again he disappeared, appearing in the old house as he had all those years ago. Swallowing his fear and fingering the tattoo still burned into his skin.

* * *

><p>Hearing Dumbledore say the boy had to die, he knew it was true. But his mind fought it. His heart fought it. He couldn't die. The old man was lying! He had to be! Potter couldn't die, not Lily's son. Not the only part of her still here, the only part still alive.<p>

As he walked down the hallway, he could feel the stares of students on all sides, their innate fear of him almost overwhelming at the moment, but he chose to move past them quickly, thundering down the stairs to the dungeons. He had not stopped to listen to Dumbledore defense for lying to both him and Potter. He had used trust to his advantage; he had used him to protect the boy so he could do what Dumbledore needed him to do, so he would be able to use him before he died.

He slammed the room to his office, rattling a small vial to the point that a small amount of purple case seeped out around the cork. He popped it shut, sliding into a chair, slamming his hands onto the desk. Dumbledore had cared for the boy, that much was obvious. He liked him, and yet he was going to let him die.

He knew for a fact that Dumbledore did not share the same affection for him. Trust was a different ideal than caring, one that was never shared between them.

So if someone Dumbledore cared for was allowed to die, could the same thing just as easily happen to him? Would it matter?

* * *

><p>His eyes flickered down to the blood that was running down his chest, darkening his already black robes and giving them a metallic sheen. He had seconds left, maybe less time than that, he knew that even as Potter appeared, trying to stop the blood flow form the horrid wound in his neck. He didn't know where the boy had come from, and he didn't care. He had to know.<p>

"Take them." He pulled the memories from his brain, offering them to Potter, who had to know the truth. A piece of Lily slipped form his hand, leaving behind an empty space like a drained river. He could see his own silvery thoughts put into a flask and stowed in a pocket, an odd feeling, but one he didn't have time to relish, nothing was staying very long anymore.

"Take them to the pensieve." He watched Potter nod, his vision blurring around the edges into an opaque black fog. His fixed his eyes on Potter's, they still didn't belong there, but he needed to see that last part of Lily before he died.

Harry's face faded from view, the only thing left were the eyes. But soon they too were gone.

(A/N) So the third one was really hard to write, I just couldn't get the words to come out right, so I did what I could. Hope you liked. Read and review as always.


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